


silent screams are hurting me (just ask for my help)

by mzanthropist



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Multi, the 100 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3027605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzanthropist/pseuds/mzanthropist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 100 AU</p><p>On the Ark, Felicity often dreamt of Earth, imagined what it must feel like to have the sun beat down on her face, the wind ruffling her hair as real air fills her lungs. As one of a hundred prisoners sent to the ground in a last-ditch effort to save human race, she doesn't have to wonder anymore. But Earth proves to be a treacherous place, hiding dangerous secrets and testing the humanity of its new inhabitants, hers included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	silent screams are hurting me (just ask for my help)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is. I just couldn't shake the idea of a The 100 AU and I had to write it. It's entirely likely I didn't do either show justice. If so, I'm terribly sorry.

Felicity’s feet pound against the uneven ground, heart racing and breaths mere shallow puffs. Knobby roots scattered like landmines across the forest floor dig at the soles of her feet as she skirts around oaks and weaves through aspens, the thick rubber of her work boots outmatched by the gnarled masses. The forest around her blurs, a mosaic of indistinct greens and browns as dirt, undergrowth and dead leaves meld into one.

 

She’d so often dreamed of bounding through a forest like this, full of carefree exhilaration as the sun shone on her face and fresh ( _real_ ) air filled her lungs. Breathless and arrested by the forest’s beauty, she almost always stops to explore and learn all its hidden secrets. In her dreams, Felicity’s never frightened or running for her life; she never wishes it weren’t real, not like she does now.

 

She hurtles through the woods mindlessly, joints bending, muscles lengthening and contracting perfunctorily. Instinct and adrenaline are the only things keeping her on her feet, propelling her forward.

 

For the first time in her life, Felicity just  _does_ , reacting without thinking, no carefully devised plan or strategy guiding her every action. It both thrills and terrifies her. She doesn’t know what she’s running towards. (Quite possibly nothing; there’s no set target or end destination.)  But what she does know is this: put as much distance between herself and the mysterious yellow fog that permeates the forest.

 

Another ominous bellow of a horn sounds off in the distance, seemingly coming from every direction as the low, brassy moan reverberates in her ears. Felicity shudders, desperation ballooning in her chest.

 

Outrunning the fog was out of the question; it was gliding toward the three of them at an alarming speed, one they had no hope of outpacing in the long run. (Her legs are already burning from the exertion and adrenaline would only take her so far.) What they needed was a place to hide, somewhere they could take refuge until the fog passed through. Felicity squints ahead of her, eyes scanning for a cave, a nook,  _something_ ; only leaves and sweeping branches stretch into the horizon.

 

Disheartened, her movements grow sloppy and uncoordinated. The toe of her right boot comes crashing into the heel of her left, and she swallows a sob of desperation as she stumbles forward several steps, underbrush slapping against her cargo-clad shins. She scrambles to regain her balance.

 

Felicity had been aware long before her boot had first sunk into Earth’s soil, before she’d even set foot on the dropship, that danger awaited them. She’d been prepared for a wasted and uninhabitable land blanketed by air so saturated with radiation that she’d die within weeks of landing (maybe less), weak and delusional, vomiting up blood. She’d inured herself to the very real possibility of death, if not by radiation, then by hunger, the elements or even at the hands of a fellow sojourner. But  _this_ , this was wholly unexpected.

 

A faint prickling sensation nips at the exposed flesh of her neck and face; the cloud of putrid yellow has gained several yards in the span of a few short seconds. Felicity’s heart hammers wildly in her chest, her hysteria mounting with each thud.

 

Through shallow sips of air, she tastes the acrid gas as it settles on her tongue, kicking her gag reflex into gear. She suppresses the urge to reach into her mouth and scrape the bitterness away with her nails.

 

Distracted, Felicity drifts too close to a nearby branch. Her breath hitches sharply in surprise as one of its shoots catches a knit in her grey Henley, jabbing sharply into the flesh underneath. Smaller twigs snag at her hair as she lurches away, tugging herself free and paying no mind to the tearing of fabric.

 

She staggers away, breathing a sigh of relief. But her heart almost immediately leaps into her throat once again, her toes jamming into a decaying log as she pivots away and sending her tumbling forward. Her stomach drops and blood whooshes loudly in her ears as the brown of the earth rushes up to meet her outstretched arms.

 

Felicity shuts her eyes, bracing for the impact that never comes. There is, instead, warmth pressing into her sides. Her eyes snap open in alarm. Peering down, she finds a pair of hands grasping her firmly by the waist, halting her descent into the cold, damp dirt. They haul her back onto her unsteady feet.

 

Felicity swivels her head over her shoulder and is met with the steel blue of Oliver’s eyes. She opens her mouth, a grateful “thank you” poised on the tip of her tongue. But her jaw slackens and the words quickly die on her lips, the looming smog of yellow in her peripheral vision commanding her attention. It advances with quiet ruthlessness, impeded by nothing in its path.

 

Calloused hands clamp down on Felicity’s shoulders. A rough, urgent shake effectively snaps her out of her horrified trance. Blinking rapidly, her eyes refocus on Oliver’s. “Keep it together, Smoak!” he growls impatiently. “I’d prefer not to carry your dead body back to camp!” He hustles her forward with a shove. “Go!”

 

She nods, not needing to be told twice. Oliver’s palms slip from her the ridges of her shoulders as she takes off. Oliver follows, only a few paces behind.

 

The fog now closer, Felicity feels its effects more acutely. The vague tingle on her skin has increased threefold, the nerves running beneath screaming louder with each passing second. The rims of her nostrils sting with every inhale while her eyes burn and water as wisps of the gas snake past her glasses.

 

“Felicity!” Tommy’s voice calls from somewhere up ahead and to the left. She squints through her tears in the direction of his voice and makes out his hazy form, arms raised and waving frantically. Felicity veers off course, newly ignited hope reenergizing her fatigued legs. She was finally running  _toward_  something (a respite of some sort, she hopes), not just fleeing from the inescapable.

 

Oliver continues to follow closely behind; she’s finds his presence at her back reassuring in spite of herself. The two of them skid to a stop where Tommy is prying open the doors of the upturned van they’d passed an hour earlier. Hinges whine from rust and disuse, but the sound is eclipsed by another thundering bellow from the mountains.

 

The rolling mist slowly engulfs the three of them. Deep, hacking coughs rack their bodies, lungs working to expel the pernicious gas from their depths.

 

“Get in!” Tommy yells, voice muffled as he coughs into the crook of his elbow. Felicity quickly clambers down, staggering out of the way to make room as Oliver drops down after her. Tommy climbs down last, slamming the rusted aluminum shut.

 

Felicity watches with wide-eyed horror as noxious yellow wisps curl in through the sliver of space between the door and the body of the van, the degraded rubber seal doing little to keep the gas at bay. “It’s getting inside!” she exclaims unnecessarily, desperation lodged in her throat.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Oliver curses gruffly, hands shoving roughly into his hair.

 

“Seal any openings,” Tommy instructs, grabbing a threadbare throw blanket that lies haphazardly at his feet. Surprisingly steady hands tuck it into the crevice along the doorframe above their heads. Felicity’s eyes dart around the cluttered vehicle, landing on a dusty garbage bag caught beneath the passenger seat. With hurried movements, she frees it with a sharp yank, shakes it open and turns to the van’s rear double doors.

 

The three of them work in tense silence, their laboured pants and the rustle of fabric filling the small space.

 

When yellow no longer seeps into the interior, and their coughs and watering eyes have subsided, the three of them collectively sag with relief. Tommy and Oliver slump to the floor at opposite ends. Although her legs threaten to give out on her, Felicity remains standing, head buzzing and hands trembling. She determinedly curls them into tight fists.

 

“Maybe we should’ve made a run for it,” she says dumbly, her voice sounding far away in her ears. “I mean, yes, this is killer fog we’re dealing with, and the chances of us making it back to camp with our flesh and eyes intact is almost non-existent, but it’s been hours and Barry-”

 

“Is in good hands,” Tommy interjects, fingers circling around her wrist and tugging to coax her into the spot next to him. She obliges dazedly, knees buckling to send her butt dropping gracelessly onto the paneling of the van. “Caitlin will look after him,” Tommy assures her.

 

Felicity gnaws her bottom lip, brows knitted. “But there isn’t much she can do without the kelp. Maybe if we-”

 

“You can’t be that fucking stupid,” Oliver interrupts from the other side of the van, disdain and annoyance twisting his features. “Even with that saviour complex of yours.” He deliberately ignores the icy glare she shoots his way. “Wandering around in toxic fog isn’t going to do anyone any good. If we die out there, you’re just signing the kid’s death certificate. We’re waiting this out.” His tone brooks no argument.

 

Indignant rage flares in Felicity’s chest despite the soundness of his argument. “I’m surprised that you suddenly care so much about Barry’s life,” she retorts caustically, body canting forward in challenge. Oliver lifts an imperious brow. “Just this morning, you were ready to kill him yourself. I guess it’s only when it serves your self-interest that you think a life other than yours is worth saving.”

 

“Felicity, come on. Now’s not the time,” Tommy says, easing her shoulders back gently. Releasing a harsh breath, Felicity lets Tommy’s touch guide her back. He’s right. Getting into a squabble with Oliver Queen of all people in cramped quarters with fear and adrenaline still coursing through her veins was probably not the best idea. It would only serve to fray her already frazzled nerves. Her lips press into a thin line, disgust curling the ends.

 

“It’s called self-preservation, Smoak,” Oliver ripostes easily. “You should really give it a try sometime. You’re survival instincts are shit and it’s hell of a lot handier than this self-sacrificing bullshit you seem so keen on.” He smirks mockingly. “You don’t stand a chance down here if you keep putting others’ needs ahead of your own. This isn’t the Ark, and the others will drop your life like a hot potato if it meant risking their own. Not all of us as selfless as you. Or as weak.”

 

Felicity bristles. “If you think the fact that I  _care_  makes me weak, then you’re dumber than you look. The  _only_ way we’re going to survive down here is if we learn to live  _together_.” She purses her lips grimly, exhaling harshly through her nose. “Or else, we die alone.”

 

Oliver’s laugh drips with derision. “Getting a bit melodramatic there, don’t you think?”

 

Felicity grits her teeth, glower deepening. This asshole was testing her patience in ways she’d never imagined possible and the desire to throttle him burns low in her belly. She starts out of her thoughts when Tommy places a quelling hand over hers which, unbeknownst to her, had fisted into the rough material of his pants.

 

“Felicity,” he murmurs low in warning, a tone reserved for when he senses her losing battle with her temper.

 

Oliver’s smirk turns brittle. “You should do as he says, Smoak. I don’t think he realizes his father doesn’t run things down here and neither does he. Feed his delusion a little while longer. The reality check might be too much of a shock to his system,” he says nastily.

 

Tommy stiffens at Felicity side, hand over hers slackening and slipping to her thigh. She turns to him, concern washing away her ire. “I’m perfectly aware that I don’t run things down here, Oliver,” Tommy says equanimously, tone clipped and even. “Just like I never had a say on how things were run on the Ark.”

 

Oliver glares balefully. “No, you’re just the son of a bitch who can’t seem to grasp the concept of loyalty, completely incapable of keeping his mouth shut when it counts.” Felicity flinches at the bite in Oliver’s tone. Tommy, however, continues to look nonplussed, a practiced detachment masking whatever emotion percolated underneath.

 

“I’m not doing this with you anymore, Oliver.” Tommy’s head shakes mildly (almost sadly), expression neutral. “I never told my father about Thea; that’s the truth. And I honestly don’t know what it’s going to take to convince you otherwise.”

 

“Just tell me why you did it?” Oliver pushes belligerently. “Was it because you needed validation from your dear old dad? Did you think this was your chance to  _finally_  convince him you’re the perfect son he’s always wanted and not the disappointment he got? Because, God,” he sneers meanly, “that’s a new level of  _pathetic_ , Tommy.”

 

Something suddenly snaps in Tommy’s demeanour. A scowl embeds itself deeply into his features, drawing out the parentheses around his mouth and reducing his eyes to slits. “I’d known about Thea since the day she was  _born_ ; she was a secret I swore to keep and, more importantly, like a  _sister_  to me. What possible reason would I have had to suddenly feel compelled to tell my father the truth about her parentage?” he asks, voice dangerously low, the usually calm sapphire of his eyes flashing menacingly.

 

“The fuck if I know!” Oliver roars, any semblance of composure slipping away.

 

The pads of Tommy’s fingers press into Felicity’s thigh, his breathing harsh and uneven. “Oliver, stop,” she intones firmly, hand settling over Tommy’s larger one.

 

Oliver’s gaze snaps to her. “You must be some kind of idiot, defending this piece of shit,” he hisses, voice laced with contemptuous incredulity. “His father had yours  _assassinated_  to get him to keep his mouth shut about the oxygen supply on the Ark. Malcolm Merlyn had you locked you up, no official charge or trial, the moment you confronted him about it.”

 

Tommy’s hand twitches under her own. She squeezes it reassuringly. “I don’t know how you know any of that, and I don’t particularly care.” Felicity raises her eyes, locking with Oliver’s. “But let me make one thing clear: Tommy had no hand in any of what happened to me or my father. He and his father are  _not_  the same person, and you’d do well to remember that.” She eyes him warily. “Maybe then, you might be able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to handle this truth bomb: Malcolm had your parents floated not because  _Tommy_  told him about your sister’s true parentage, but because  _your father_  confronted him about her paternity.”

 

Oliver’s jaw slackens, brows creasing in confusion; Tommy breathing stops altogether. Felicity sucks in a loud breath, preparing for the repercussions that would undoubtedly follow her revelation.

 

"Malcolm Merlyn is Thea’s biological father."

**Author's Note:**

> I may write more depending on the response. In the meantime, thanks for reading, and please drop a review if you've got the time, either here or on Tumblr. I love hearing back from readers! Any ideas you may have are also welcome!


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